


our days are numbered, but let me stay here awhile

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 15:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17428466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Exhausted from the hectic idol life, Kim Jongin finds solace in farmer Do Kyungsoo, who grows out of season fruits and vegetables in the middle of the coldest winter.Prompt #41 for The Little Prince Fic Fest





	our days are numbered, but let me stay here awhile

   


  
Jan. 01, 2010, 21:00

SM Ent. SKY’s Kai to take week off before birthday celebrations

Singer and Dancer Kim Jongin (25) announces a private vacation preceding his group’s grand comeback!

[Netizen comment]:

(+56, 0) Take a rest now, you worked so hard last year. Patiently waiting~

(+50, 0) I’ll miss you…Though I’m eagerly waiting to celebrate his birthday with my fellow erigoms, he deserves a break ㅠㅠ

(+20, 0) Kai, enjoy your vacation, eat some good food and start the new year happy♪

(+3, 0) Work hard, have fun!

(+1, -20) What, he’s not celebrating with his bandmates? how manufactured is their band’s friendship ㅋㅋ and their comeback is in a month…

 

* * *

   


The vibrations of his alarm don’t awaken Kim Jongin like usual. It’s only until his second alarm starts going off with the blaring noises of a foghorn, that the 25-year old realizes the next day has come, and with it, the end of his sweet sleep.

He turns over towards his bedside table, fiddling at his phone’s lock button before frustratingly swiping the alarm screen off. Using all his might in this state of morning grogginess, he sits himself up, stretching his back muscles and rotating his shoulders. Peeking through the edges of his curtains are a couple of stray morning rays, which always begin to annoy him on mornings like these, especially if the sleepiness hasn’t left him yet.

Another  _ding_ noise from his phone alerts him, bringing to his attention a new message from his group chat with Chanyeol and Sehun.

8:12 am

**sehun:**

So yeah you are coming back by the 14th right? Your vacay wont last too long?

**chanyeol** :

            slacker

            (just kidding i love you)

He rolls his eyes at the banter of his bandmates. He’d told them  _weeks_  in advance, and yet they still have the audacity to act surprised. Moreover, he had  _just_  wrapped up filming for last episode of a special drama where he played the role of a sidekick to a psychopathic villain character – didn’t he deserve a break?

**jongin** :

guys i told you so many times already, stop pretending this is news

yeah manager wont let me go for that long.

It’ll only be for six and a half days, don’t miss me too much yeol

**sehun:**

            Stay warm in the brutal countryside, and don’t get lost

            My poor booboo wont be able to survive if he loses himself

**chanyeol:**

            Toben already misses you, see

            [Img.attached]

**jongin:**

awwww

I’ll be fine, you guys

            Also im seeing you in two hours

            Im leaving in a week, but Ill be back before you know it

That’s right. Jongin was generously granted a break in his schedule before doing the comeback stages with Chanyeol and Sehun. Their group, SKY – an acronym of their names – was scheduled for a comeback next month. Scheduling was tight, but given his senior status in the agency, he convinced his manager, Junmyeon, to work it out for him. He switches apps to scan his schedule for the day. Just a dance practice, since the album was already recorded and undergoing the final stages of post-production...he figures since he’ll see the Chanyeol and Sehun later in the day anyways, he can enjoy this bit of alone time in peace.

There were many good sides to being a famous idol in Asia. For one, he knew he would always have his fans standing by his side. Over the years, his birthday celebrations had never been spent alone. They had only gotten more and more extravagant. Jongin adored the outpouring of love from fans in the form of bus advertisements, newspaper addresses, and other overt proclamations of appreciation for him. In fact, he still had kept framed versions of every single  _New York Times_  birthday dedication pages fansites would buy him year after year – the thought of it brought a smug smile to his face. And unlike some of his anti’s claimed, his relationship with the rest of SKY  _was_  very good – after almost six years together, Jongin could still confidently say that those two were the two who were oftentimes most attuned with him.

Still, it’s hard to deny the lack of freedom to enjoy a few days to himself in the hectic world of entertainment. Jongin likes reading – novels, nonfiction, and everything in between – but there is barely enough time for it. He finds himself having to get his reading done in doses in between shoots and on plane trips overseas, but what he really wants is some  _peace_  and  _quiet_. Which is how he ended up deciding to spend his long-coveted vacation at his grandparent’s old house, where his mother was raised. Jongin himself had spent there a year living with his grandfather there, back when he was only ten and in middle school. It was a brief stint when his parents couldn’t afford the costs of raising him in a good enough district back in Seoul. It hasn’t been in use in years, but, apparently, was kept in good condition on the goodwill of a local neighbor who used to be friends with his grandfather. There, he can hopefully escape from the noise of the city, read the new translated Werber novel, and maybe see some nice countryside scenery while out there, too.

 

* * *

   


_[day 1] he dreamt of days like this_

The air outside the black van is chilly. He can feel it on his fingertips, which are absentmindedly drilling at the base of the car window. A black van was  _too_ conspicuous, he internally complains. He’s going to the goddamn Korean countryside, for christ’s sake. He glances over at Junmyeon, who’s busy scrolling through a seemingly endless flow of emails. How lucky he is that he doesn’t have to work on such things.

He yawns. The outside view has largely remained the same for three and a half hours now. Maybe driving all the way to his grandparent’s house which is nearly four hours away wasn’t the greatest idea. No, he reminds himself – flying would’ve been risky with how some crazed fans have been getting insider info about his movements within the country. Maybe he himself should have driven, at least that would have left him with something to do. He flips on his phone again, eyeing the measly 3% battery flashing up at the top.

He rests his head against the car window, a dark screen covering it to give the idol inside some privacy. It makes the view outside difficult to see, but he can still make out the vague shapes of frozen rice paddies and the accumulations of snow on top of small village houses. His breath warms the surface of the window, fogging it up. Slightly amused, he draws a small bear with his pointer finger on the fogged area, and smiles at it.

Just then, he notices what seems to be a rather large red building in the far-off distance, jutting out of the plane of white that is the rest of the landscape.

“Junmyeon. What’s that?” He asks, shaking the shoulder of the manager.

“What’s what? Oh, that building? Oh, that should be…” He flips through the pages in front of him quickly, searching for the local guidebook for this region. A map is drawn on the second page, which he places in front of Jongin. “I guess they’re saying it’s a temple of some sort. Built in the 70’s. Oh, and it seems to be really close to your grandfather’s house. You should check it out sometime.”

Jongin gazes back at the small red structure juxtaposed against the stark white of the snow. Against the wide expanse of the white landscape, the red rooftop of the temple reminds him of the warmth of a flame.

 

* * *

   


Junmyeon’s voice eventually wakes him up again.

“And this is your local guide, Jongdae. I hired him just in case you need a little help getting around town.”

The ride had been such a doozy, that it takes a while for Jongin to snap out of his post-car ride daze. Now he was in the town, the childhood neighborhood of his mother, standing outside of the parked van. Stifling a yawn, he blinks down to another man in front of him – a short, somewhat twiggy man whose smile reminds him of the Cheshire cat.

“Nice to meet you, Jongdae,” Jongin smiles politely, reaching a hand out in greeting.

Jongdae takes it in turn, replying “The pleasure is all mine. I’m a friend of a friend of Junmyeon’s, and I’m in charge of the local tourism around here. I’m aware of your need for privacy, and rest assured this town is…quaint. There aren’t many young people like us, only middle-aged and elderly folk with the occasional family with very young children.”

Jongin takes in the sight around him. He’s in what appears to be the local center of the village. There’s a small visitor’s center to his right, where there’s a balding man sitting in a booth reading a book about Baduk game strategy ( _The Greatest Baduk Plays of the Modern Century_ , he manages to squint out). To the left lies a smattering of inns and shops displaying the local clayware. He remembers when he was young, such niceties in his grandfather’s house were meant to be awed at and not touched, much less than be eaten out of. He chuckles to himself. If his grandparents were still alive, he would have been able to buy them a whole cupboard of such fine pottery. Time’s passage swept through a little too fast sometimes.

“This is all good to know, Jongdae. Tell me, are there any recommended things to do here, it’s been so long since I’ve returned.”

“Oh!” Jongdae piped up again, with the temper of a small excited animal. “Actually, during the winter season the local farmers hold an open market on Saturday afternoons, so you can definitely check that out and look at our local produce. Do you cook, Jongin?”

Internally, Jongin laughs nervously, “Uh…yeah! I do.” Which was the truth, technically, if boiled chicken and shredding stir-fry greens counted as cooking.

“Great! I think you’ll love the market. I really am not lying when I’m saying the local produce here is top-notch in quality. Trust me, I do market research.”

“Where is this market?”

“It’s just in this little square here,” Jongdae responds, pointing to a specific location on the town map. If you want, I can accompany you this afternoon and maybe introduce you to some of the farmers and craftsmen here.”

Their banter is interrupted by Junmyeon, who was standing to the side. “I’ll leave you him in your hands, Jongdae. I’ve got some meetings regarding the debut of the new girl group of the company, so I’ll be in my motel room using their Wi-Fi.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Busy as ever, Junmyeon.”

“Enjoy your day, Jongin,” his manager cheekily responds.

 

* * *

   


In the next hour, Jongdae had managed to give a small tour of basically the entire village. The streets were lined with little canals home to many fish, some brilliantly colored and some just a bland brown. Jongin was glad he was not a fish. He was already freezing in these sub-zero temperatures even with his long puffer jacket on, and imagining how cold those fish must be made his teeth ache and shiver.

Now they were in the little square that Jongdae indicated before, and it was bustling with an excitement that definitely wasn’t present at the visitor’s center earlier. Mini trucks filled to the brim with boxes and baskets of various freshly-plucked fruits and vegetables stood perched behind endless stalls of vendors selling all sorts of foodstuffs – spinach, lettuce, chard, cauliflower, broccoli…the list went on.

“Try this,” Jongdae suddenly exclaims in front of him, handing him a piece of pickled lotus root. It’s colored a glorious pink. Jongin takes a cautionary bite, letting the salt and acidity rush over his tongue in a flash.

“Wow, that is…good.” It was crisp, crunchy, and sour with the slightest hint of sweetness.

“The lady who pickles these and makes the best side dishes town is the one and only Mrs. Lee,” Jongdae says affirmatively, using his arms to direct Jongin’s attention to a greying lady in her sixties, sitting behind the booth and wrapped in a warm array of blankets. She took a bit to notice the presence of the two men in front of her, but her eyes lighted up when she realized Jongdae was there.

“Jongdae, dear! You’re here again, and you have brought a friend this time,” Mrs. Lee says gleefully. “When will you bring back a lovely girl to town to introduce to me? I keep saying this week after week. One day I may have to introduce you to my niece…”

“Your pickles are wonderful as always, Mrs. Lee,” Jongdae says sweetly.

Mrs. Lee turns to face Jongin. “And…oh my, do I recognize you from somewhere?” Oh no. Jongin feels a nervous prickling at the back of his neck.

She continues, “Oh, I know you! My daughter is a huge fan. That’s right, you wouldn’t mind...” She turns to grasp for any writing implement and a surface. Jongin faces Jongdae with a nervous smile on his face, not wanting to draw any attention to himself in such a crowded area.

Mrs. Lee returns back to the front of her table, holding in her hands a pen and her receipt book. “Just right here, please…could you write a note to my daughter from the  _famous_  Oh Sehun? I couldn’t find anything better…”

“Oh, no, I think you’re—” Jongin rushes out, startled by the mistaken identity. Next to him, Jongdae is doing his best at holding back a laugh.

Jongin sighs, “Actually, no, of course. What’s your daughter’s name now?”

After that ordeal, they return to taste-testing all of the various foods at the market. Jongin buys a couple bags of vegetables and even gets a fresh carton of eggs, though admittedly he has to say he’s a bit afraid of ruining the inherent flavor of such good food by his own horrendous cooking.

“Oh, I have one more person you need to meet,” Jongdae says. “His stuff is really popular, and often gets sold out quickly, which is why he’s at the end of the market. You have to push to get through to his stall.”

Curiosity peaked, Jongin follows Jongdae’s lead. And sure enough, the stall of this last vendor was crowded with squabbling visitors. There was a lot of empty space on the table, with little leaves of vegetables left behind; it appeared there was a lot of competition in getting those last vestiges of produce.

And in the middle of the stall, behind the table and the noisy rabble, sat a man whose presence Jongin could only describe as…serene. His hair was close cropped at the sides, a little tuft sticking up out in front. His skin was glass-like – clear, with the occasional moles dotting the soft features of his face. He appeared perfectly still at first, gaze unfocused on any one particular thing, only standing up and interacting with those who handed him bills for payment.

 Suddenly, he turns, looks up, and seemingly locks eyes with Jongin. His eyes go wide like an owl’s, and Jongin is again startled. No one else here besides this man and Mrs. Lee from before seem to recognize his presence. The feeling subsides when he feels another tug on his right arm jacket from ahead, beckoning the idol to come further, and he realizes it’s not he who this man is looking straight at, but rather Jongdae. His eager guide is waving frantically at the man at the booth, who begins to smile and wave back.

“Jongdae,” the man breathes out as the two approach him. His voice is surprisingly deep for his face, with its mix of soft and angular features. His cheeks are tinged a little pink from the chilly winds blowing against his face. Quickly, the man crouches down to reach for something below the table, then plops a box in front of Jongin’s guide.

“They’re your favorite raspberries for the season. They were the first to run out today, so I made sure to save you three boxes…oh, and some strawberries, too. I think these came out extra sweet,” the man flutters out, little puffs of breath condensing upwards as he speaks. Right at that instant, He seems to notice Jongin standing awkwardly at the side. “Oh, is this a friend from out of town?”

“Yup! Well, incidentally we just met today, but he is from out of town, and he’s very friendly,” Jongdae beams, then adding further in a low whisper, “He’s also kind of a famous celebrity, so keep that a secret, okay?” Jongin kicks Jongdae, below the other man’s line of sight. There was still a rather robust crowd standing around them, some of whom appeared to be in their younger years, and he’d much rather prefer not to draw any attention to himself more than necessary. The new man, however, remains unfazed.

“Hi, I’m, uh Jongin.” The idol instead offers his hand testily in front of the other, who shakes it politely.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Kyungsoo,” Now he looks a little lost. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know Jongdae would bring another friend, so I only saved those four boxes.”

Jongdae butts in, “Oh, don’t worry about that, Kyungsoo. You’re too considerate for your own good. Look, he can just sample from my boxes. Also, how much were these again?”

“You really don’t need to worry about that—”

Jongdae ignores Kyungsoo and shoves two ten-thousand won bills into Kyungsoo’s front flannel shirt pocket. “No, you always say that. Keep the change, too.”

With an exasperated look Kyungsoo responds, “Fine. But I’ll buy you your round of drinks tonight. That’s still on for 7 pm tonight right? Naeun said she’s coming, too.”

“Oh, last minute change, but can I invite two other people too?” Jongdae says mischievously, pulling Jongin back to the forefront, “ _This_  guy, and his manager?”

“Oh, uh, sure. There’s no problem with that. I look forward to meeting your friends,” Kyungsoo says.

Jongin smiles politely while nudging Jongdae in the chest with his elbow. He is a bit taken aback by the forced invitation on Jongdae’s part, but he supposes he can’t just well say  _no_ , sorry,  _I have better things to do tonight_  when he knows for certain that’s not true.

At least it’s something to look forward to.

 

* * *

   


“God, it’s cold!” Jongin shivers in the winter breeze. The temperature sunk another 10 degrees between the afternoon and evening, and it’s well below freezing now. He’s accompanied by Junmyeon, who is scowling underneath his own scarf from the cold. Before they began heading over, the rest of the afternoon was spent banally. Jongin tried the raspberries and strawberries from Kyungsoo’s farm, and he was pleasantly surprised by just how juicy and sweet they were, much more so than any other batch he had ever tried before.

They soon reach the establishment, a restaurant specializing in oysters. They step in, and immediately warmth washes over them both.

“There was a reservation made under the name of Kim Jongdae, for the private room seating five,” Junmyeon says to the attending staff.

The two are taken by a waitress to their room, a small chamber framed by wooden paneling and mellow lighting. Jongdae, Kyungsoo, and another woman Jongin doesn’t recognize are already sitting inside, and they’ve already started drinking. An assortment of side dishes is already set out, as well as a few starting platters of raw shellfish arranged beautifully on curved earthen wares.

“Oh, our special guests have arrived!” The woman calls out, standing up from her floor cushion, “I’m Naeun, I work with Jongdae here,” she introduces.

“I’m Jongin, and this is my manager Junmyeon,” Jongin responds in turn.

“Oh, I know  _you_ ,” she smiles, “You’re a member of that famous boy group, S-K…Y, right? Don’t worry, I’m not a crazed fan. Oh, and I talked with Junmyeon here earlier this month when we were planning this trip of yours.”

She seemed friendly enough, Jongin thought. He and Junmyeon sat themselves on the remaining two cushions surrounding the small table. His eyes wandered until they set themselves upon Kyungsoo, who was already a little flush from his own serving of alcohol.

“Hey, does anyone have a charger? My phone’s at seven percent...” Kyungsoo interjects.

Oh, I have one in my bag,” Junmyeon offers. “Give me your phone,” Kyungsoo gratefully hands him his phone, and Junmyeon plugs it into the little power bank, whereupon he places it in a little pocket in his bag.

As more courses are served, they talked local gossip – how one of the schoolteachers was found embezzling funds from the high school (“ _How scandalous_!” Naeun gasps), how the water on the nearby lake had frozen over and could be used for skating (“You are  _terrible_  at ice skating, Naeun, you’d fall into the lake instead,” Jongdae interrupts), and how the other farmers in town had already hung up their garden tools for this season’s long winter and moved to other labor instead.

Jongin notices Junmyeon getting redder and redder as he takes more soju shots with the others. He’s always been a little weak at alcohol, but what’s strange to him is seeing his manager starting to nudge closer to Jongdae, who himself won’t stop giggling at Naeun’s stories about the local townsfolk. Kyungsoo is also loosening up, and the way he smiles – it’s so pure, it reminds Jongin of that of an old friend. Jongin then realizes he’s been looking Kyungsoo’s direction for quite a while. He stops himself before he’s caught staring too long.

Another hour passes. They order a serving of sweet rice cakes and tea. Kyungsoo’s farm is brought up sometime along the way, and Jongin is surprised to find out that the man grows out of season fruits and vegetables all year long. He uses…some sort of system called aqua-something? Coupled with a special greenhouse design, or something like that. His head was starting to go in circles, likely because of the alcohol. It all sounded very interesting to Jongin in the moment, but the technicalities were far beyond his understanding for right now.

“Okay,  _you’ve_  had way too much to drink,” Jongdae eventually says in regards to Junmyeon, who is starting to get angry drunk and complaining about his unfair portion of work as a manager to the top group in the company. He slings one arm of the older man across his shoulder. “I’ll take this guy back. Jongin, I’ll drive you to your house so you know the way.”

Naeun also scoots back before standing up too. “I have to catch the morning train tomorrow back to the city, so I’ll also be going soon.” Kyungsoo, too, gets up, taking care to dust off his pants and grabbing his bag. They all part ways at the front of the restaurant after splitting the bill, and Jongin loads Junmyeon’s drunken self into the van. Suddenly a ringing tone sounds out of Junmyeon’s bag, and Jongin recognizes it as Kyungsoo’s cell phone that he’d left behind.

“Oh, shoot, we forgot to return Kyungsoo his phone.”

Jongdae turns around quickly, “Really? Crap, wait – I remember he actually lives in the same area of the town as you. We can drop it off when we head over to the house.” Jongin nods at this, relieved by the easy enough solution.

After loading up into the vehicle, they make their way to his grandfather’s old house, the black van’s headlights illuminating the scenery’s seemingly endless number of barren trees. In the back, Junmyeon quietly rambles some rant about contemporary society’s faults all the while.

“Wow,” Jongdae chuckles lightheartedly when the van comes to a stop in front a house. “I was just following the GPS directions since I don’t know the exact house numbers here, but I didn’t expect you two to actually be neighbors.”

Jongin peers out. Sure enough, there was the familiar concrete and tiled rooftop of his mother’s childhood abode out front. He steps out of the van. There wasn’t really a driveway, just an extended portion of the dirt road. Next door, a hanging lantern lit up a more traditional-looking house surrounded by a brick enclosure. Out front there was a sign propped up, on it written in simple black font, “Do Residence.”

Jongdae calls out, “Let me know if you need any help with anything tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll leave you be. And don’t worry about this guy here,” he adds, referring to the now snoozing Junmyeon in the back seat.

Jongin nods, “Goodnight, and thanks for the invitation for dinner,” and Jongdae grins before driving off.

He now steps up to Kyungsoo’s doorway. He gulps, somehow now nervous. He rings the doorbell. The other man didn’t talk much about himself besides the brief mentions of his little farming ventures, and Jongin found himself wanting to know  _more_ , but Kyungsoo was the reserved type, never talking much about himself if he didn’t need to. He also wasn’t sure how to approach it without sounding too strange or creepy to him.

To be frank, he found Kyungsoo beautiful, reminiscent of something from time gone by, but he wasn’t sure what.  _Oh god_ , he curses to himself,  _this is a crush, and I’m probably projecting some personality onto this dude that I barely know_. He needs to stop it. He needs to get his act together because these thoughts are probably some force of drunken confusion and he’s probably just feeling lonely right now because the dinner really  _was_  good and  _fun_  and–

“Hello? Is that you Jongin?” A familiar deep voice pans out in front of him. Apparently, the door had opened when he was lost in his own thoughts.

He shifts his focus down slightly. Kyungsoo’s face is right there – in front of his, eyes wide open in surprise. He notices the other is holding a spray bottle and a pair of pruning shears.

Jongin shakes off his previous thoughts. “Uh, I’m here to return your phone to you. You forgot it in Junmyeon’s bag earlier,” he explains, bringing the device out to Kyungsoo’s view.

“Oh my gosh, thanks, I totally forgot,” Kyungsoo says, “Sorry, I was just out in the garden fixing up some things…”

“No, don’t worry. I apologize for interrupting you so late at night.” He quickly glances at his watch. It’s almost midnight. “You still work at this kind of hour?”

Kyungsoo smiles slightly as he looks up to Jongin. “Yes, but it’s just precautionary stuff. Checking up on temperature and humidity and stuff like that, to make sure the smallest ones don’t get cranky with me in the morning. The flowers needed a little cut too, so I figured I would attend to them tonight, too.” Kyungsoo’s voice fades out as he realizes he’s explaining himself too much. “Sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it.”

Jongin doesn’t think it’s too much at all. “You know what Kyungsoo? You’re amazing.”

Kyungsoo is noticeably taken aback. “No, it’s really not that much—”

Jongin suddenly finds himself placing a hand to the shorter man’s shoulder, who is a little surprised by the encroachment of space on Jongin’s part.

“No, I mean it. You have dedication to a craft that means so much to you, you talk about the plants and flowers as if they’re your children. It’s the first time I’ve met someone like that in a while.”

Kyungsoo noticeably draws inward from embarrassment from the sudden compliment, but the glow in his eyes tell Jongin he doesn’t dislike it. “Since you’re a celebrity though, I’m sure you work just as hard, if not more so,” he smiles. “I appreciate such kind words coming from a guy as famous as you though.”

Jongin shakes his head. “Whatever, I’m famous. Who cares. I guess what I mean to say is – I really respect guys like you? No, I just really respect  _you_.” The words from his mouth just keep spilling out. “You know out of all the fruits I tried from the market this afternoon, your strawberries were my favorite?”

Kyungsoo brings his own hand to grasp the hand Jongin still has clasped over his shoulder, bringing it gently down. He chuckles softly.

 “Jongin, really, you need to go to bed. I think you also drunk a little too much tonight.”

Jongin realizes in that moment that he probably  _is_  a little tipsier than he expected, much more than Kyungsoo at least. The fact that Kyungsoo drew a line between them just then, disappointed and embarrassed him a little for some reason.

“Yeah, you’re right…I’ll be off now. I really enjoyed the company you guys gave me today.”

“Goodnight, Jongin,” Kyungsoo responds softly.

“Goodnight, Kyungsoo.”

He trudges over to his own house next door now, bringing forth the front door key that he received from Junmyeon earlier out from his back pocket. The door opens without hassle, and he flickers the lights on. The interior is tidy, not a spare dust bunny or cobweb in sight. Whoever’s been keeping the place all nice, has been doing it well. His clothes and bags were brought up beforehand, so he quickly takes a shower, brushes his teeth and washes his face before changing and plopping down on the previously made bed.

The lights from next door are still on, he notices, as he turns off his own. Checking the time on his phone now, he realizes it’s already 12:55 am.

As he lays in bed mentally readying himself to go to sleep that night, Jongin tries to stave off thoughts of Kyungsoo. But as he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of him anyway.

 

* * *

   


_[day 2] now I must act_

On the second day, Jongin wakes up refreshed albeit a little cold. The heater kept turning on and off intermittently, never settling on a comfortable temperature. To be fair, it  _has_  been many years since the house last housed human inhabitants, so Jongin chalks it up to lack of regular upkeep. He opens up his fridge, where he stored the carton of eggs and fresh produce he bought yesterday afternoon. He should really make something nice and hearty for breakfast, he thinks, before he realizes that he completely forgot to get any oils or spices to actually  _use_  to make the food. He curses himself internally, then remembers that his granddad’s old bike should still be in the old shed out in the backyard. He could bike back into town, and pick up everything at the old general store if it’s still there.

He quickly changes into actual clothes and pulls on his coat, as well as a pair of his favorite wool socks, before opening the door to the backyard. Contrary to the customary sight of vegetables and fruits being grown in their designated little sections he’d grown used to seeing when he lived with his grandfather all those years back, the yard was now bare, void of all life. It’s only to be expected. Regardless, Jongin steps out with his set of keys in hand, jingling them while his shoes crunch down on cold dirt and dead leaves.

He approaches the shed, an old rickety thing, and pulls out the designated key to unlock the bolted shut door. The lock opens with a click, and he swings the door open. Inside, there are three bicycles. Two adult-sized frames, and a small kid-sized one. He frowns. He recalls that he and his grandfather had their own respective bikes when he lived with him that one year in middle school, but he couldn’t recall if they ever got another larger bicycle in addition to those. Grandmother had long since died, and she never biked anyways. Maybe that one was for guests, Jongin concludes, or something to that effect.

He picks out his grandfather’s bike, with its rust forming at the handlebars, but which is otherwise in perfectly rideable condition. The little basket out front and bell are left the same as he remembers from his childhood, making him remember scenes of him and his grandfather biking up and down the road to town when they used to pick up groceries together. After he brings the bike out to the front doors, he adjusts the seat so that is suits his frame.

The route back into town should be the same as it was last night, he thinks, so he kicks up onto the bike and rides slowly, enjoying the crisp clean air and blue skies around him. As he bikes past different houses and their respective little fields across from them, he picks up faint scents of pine and maple.

At last, he reaches his destination, a tiny general store selling basic cooking utensils and other lifestyle implements. He parks his bike outside, not even bothering with a lock. As he walks into the establishment, the ringing of chimes signals his presence to the store owner, a middle-aged woman with her hair up in a bun and a couple of fine lines forming on the peripheries of her cheeks. She nods in acknowledgement to Jongin, before the feeling of recognition immediately hits them both at the same time.

“Oh my goodness, it’s the troublesome Kim kid with the bad hair, isn’t that right?” the woman cries out in astonishment.

Jongin knows this woman. As a child living here, he and his group of friends would run around the shop and pester the adult customers until the aggrieved owner of the shop would be forced to appease the children with little candy stars and shoo them out hurriedly. She never bothered to learn his name; rather, she’d just learned to refer to Jongin by his surname and his unruly hair only – back then, it would be uncombed and stuck out in all directions. It all comes rushing back to Jongin.

He smiles his widest smile to the now greying shop owner, “How did you recognize me after all these years?”

“Some people never change,” the storekeeper responds saucily, her hands fiddling with some stick-on price labels. “Even if they grow older and taller and their hair gets bent into shape. I do hope you’ve made a name for yourself after all these years of bothering me and my business for all those months,” she folds her arm in feign crossness.

“Do you really think so?” Jongin asks in turn with a pout. “I guess I’ll have to apologize sincerely now. I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you before, Mrs…” Jongin glances down to the little nameplate affixed a little lopsided on the woman’s vest, “Park?”

Mrs. Park blinks in surprise. “My, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever referred to me by my actual name. You’ve grown up to become such a charming-looking man, and now you’ve come to tell me you have the manners now to back it up?” Jongin laughs, charming Mrs. Park even more.

The chimes ring again. Footsteps follow, and Jongin is drawn to their owner.

“It’s you again.” It’s Kyungsoo, two muslin tote bags slung over his shoulders, dressed in cropped khakis and wrapped up in a very large grey puffer jacket that overwhelms his frame.

“Wow, we really keep on bumping into each other, huh,” Jongin says.

“Truly. What are you here to pick up?” He asks in turn.

“Me? Well, I guess I was gonna cook something up this morning, then realized that I don’t have any oil or butter or anything at home…so here I am. To be honest, I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Ah, grocery shopping like us normal people.” Jongin can’t tell if there’s sarcasm laden in that voice of Kyungsoo’s, but he decides it’s worth pushing forward anyways.

“What about you?” He says back.

“I came to pick up some seed packets. And some flower food.” He points directedly to the aisle behind them, which Jongin is absentmindedly blocking. Caught unaware, he moves over to the side to let the other man through.

 “Wait, Kyungsoo!” He hurriedly says at Kyungsoo, who’s six meters ahead of him now. The man turns around with a perplexed expression, obviously not used to being pursued in a small-town convenience store.

 Jongin shuffles to him, stopping a little short to avoid encroaching on the other’s personal space. “Um…I’m sorry if I said something weird last night to you, and if it made you uncomfortable. Sometimes when I drink a little, I just say strange things without thinking…Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Huh?” Kyungsoo is now tilting his head to the side in the confusion. “Why in the world would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, your face…looked kind of fed up with me somehow just now. And by your terse answers to my questions...?”

“Ah…” Kyungsoo murmurs, eyes widening. He rummages through his sling bag for a bit, pulling out a glasses case. “I forget to tell people that I have slight astigmatism and nearsightedness,” he explains, “it forces me to squint and Jongdae tells me it makes people slightly scared that I’m angry at them.”

He unfolds his glasses then, which are thick-rimmed and black, and puts them on. They immediately make the other man look three years younger, his eyes now fully emphasized within the lenses. The wide eyes and pursed lips of the other remind Jongin of a cute newborn chick, but he doesn’t dare say that.

“You look really good with glasses on,” he can’t help but blurt out.  _You’re cute_ , he wants to scream out.

 “I do?”

“Y-yeah. I said that.”

Jongin wants to bury his face in sand, because he’s somehow managing to be really bad at flirting, and at the same time, it’s with the most oblivious person on the planet. He manages to get back on track to shopping for the actual ingredients he came for. He now also finds himself craving almond cookies. Maybe he can pick up an assortment of snacks as well. Speaking of snacks…

He looks over to Kyungsoo, who’s now perusing through some bath products down the same aisle.  _Get your shit together, Kim Jongin_ , he snaps at himself.

After picking out the necessary items he came for, as well as a few additional munchies to snack on, Jongin walks over to the counter to pay for his stuff. Kyungsoo waits behind him, so after getting his receipt from Mrs. Park, he moves over, standing by Kyungsoo as the other checks out.

 “You ready?” he asks. Kyungsoo has put all his own items in the bags he brought.

“Yeah, thanks for waiting.”

They walk outside. “Is that your bike?” Kyungsoo says, pointing at Jongin’s bike. Jongin nods. “You know, you should really lock it. It’s not like before, bike theft is becoming more and more common around here recently. Especially with older folk. A lot of the middle schoolers seem to think it’s funny to steal an elder person’s bike, only to return it after knowing they bought a new one. To make them feel bad about wasting their money.”

“Wait, what? That’s so mean.”

“Yeah, it is,” Kyungsoo agrees. “But they usually get found out by their parents and are scolded into paying back the victim the money they spent.” He continues, “It’s such a silly prank. Those kids are so stupid sometimes.”

“Jeez, kids these days,” Jongin says, grappling his bike by the handlebars. He scrunches his face, imitating the sound of a grouchy old man, “back in  _my_ day—”

“—we’d do harmless things, like putting googly eyes on everything?” Kyungsoo finishes, giggling. “Or, or…zip-tie all the school supplies in classrooms when everyone was at recess. Harmless stuff.”

Jongin lets out a laugh, “Gets ‘em every time.”

He now looks down at the other man, waiting for him to retrieve his own bike. Kyungsoo is now struggling at his bike lock to get it to open, only successfully opening it when he wrangles at it for a solid few seconds. There’s an awkward brief moment after, where Kyungsoo looks up to see Jongin still watching him.

 The idol, a bit embarrassed, scratches at the base of his chin for a brief moment.  _Oh god,_  he thinks internally,  _he needs to shave_. The 5 o’ clock shadow always makes a quick appearance when he forgets even for a day. Suddenly remembering what he was planning on saying next, he asks, “Since I’m assuming that we’re going in the same direction after this, mind if I join you for a bike ride along the scenic route?”

Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows. “You mean, all the way around the lake and returning from the north side of the mountains?”

“Yep, in the springtime the cherry blossoms bloom there. That route,” Jongin says.

“But they’re all dead now,” Kyungsoo responds. “There’s not much else to see...it’d be pretty boring for a scenic ride.”

“Kyungsoo, do you hate my company  _that_  much?” Jongin pouts. “You do realize it’s not the  _view_  that I’m particularly interested in here,” he suggests, eyeing the other with intention.

Kyungsoo flushes at that.  _Did he get the message?_  Jongin thinks.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean at all. Actually, there are some interesting things to see along the way. Let’s go,” he directs, placing his bags filled with groceries in the little delivery box installed in the back of his own bike.

Jongin is thoroughly satisfied by that answer, and they begin biking in the opposite direction from which they came. This side of the town is noticeably more popular with tourists; even without the signature pink flowers peppering the landscape, the rippling of the lake waters, and their reflections of the cerulean skies above, are both undeniably beautiful.

“You’re telling me, this is your first vacation all year?”

“Yeah. It’s not all that bad though, when you’re in my line of work there are always cycles of on and off days. I don’t need to be one hundred percent completely available for fans anymore. Older groups with old guys like me get that flexibility.”

“I wouldn’t call you ‘old’ though.”

“I’ve spent a good portion of my life in the spotlight. A lot more than others because I debuted in my teens. So that makes me a senior in the eyes of the public.”

“Ahh,” Kyungsoo says, “I don’t really get it. But I appreciate it. Getting your name known and out there when there are so many others competing for the same recognition…that must be really hard.”

“Yeah. I was lucky. Really  _really_  lucky. That’s probably the only reason why I got here today,” Jongin sighs.

The reach a fork in the road. Kyungsoo points to the left side to show Jongin the correct way back, and they continue forth. “You sound tired of all of it.”

“I love my job. But you know, there are obviously both good and bad parts of it, you can’t deny that. I love my groupmates, but the industry  _does_  have to manufacture certain aspects of our relationship to the public. To make it palatable to fans. Not dating and all, at least in public. Makes me feel I can’t truly be free to share who I am to the rest of the world.”

“It must be hard. It definitely gets lonely then, sometimes?”

Jongin snorts. “Lately, almost always. But it’s good to have friends to poke fun at all the pageantry.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah…” Jongin responds. “Like this.”

They continue biking along the dirt path, which is now narrowing and becoming a little rockier. Jongin’s bike bumps along the

“What are you planning on doing tomorrow, Jongin?”

Jongin slows his pedaling. “Oh, I’m going to visit my grandfather’s grave up on Ginyeom Hill. It’s a short hike from the base, but it’s been a while since I’ve gone.”

“Ah, it really is the anniversary,” Kyungsoo responds carefully. “You must really miss him.”

Jongin looks towards Kyungsoo, “Yeah. We were family after all, I guess, and I even lived with him for a couple of months.” He pauses for a second. “He never really supported my dream of becoming a dancer or entertainer, though. He even wanted me to be an engineer, can you believe that?”

Kyungsoo gives him a look of disbelief. “Seriously? Why, because you were a nerd and super good at math or something?”

Jongin shakes his head. “God, no. I’m way more of a literature sort of guy. I did okay in all my other subjects in high school, but my Lit teachers all especially loved me. Those classes were easy A’s across the board.”

“I can imagine old man Kim snarking about your love for a subject as  _useless_ as literature,” Kyungsoo snickers, before adding, “but that’s not really true is it? I think people always underestimate the humanities.”

“You’re right,” Jongin agrees. He pauses again, trying to organize his thoughts. “I think it’s just so powerful how we humans can convey the semblance of emotion through language and art. I mean, what makes Korea  _Korea_  to the outside world anyways? Sure, technology and cell phones and the internet all bring humanity together, but nuances in language and writing can  _define_  a whole cultural worldview. I mean, just take Mishima and Yeom, for example…”

Kyungsoo’s speeds up a little, making Jongin play catch-up behind him. He peeks behind his shoulders, giving Jongin an affectionate smirk.

“Well I got one thing right, you  _are_  a nerd,” Kyungsoo teases.

“Am  _not_ ,” Jongin interjects, speeding up once more before they’re again aligned side-by-side together.

They bike the rest of the way home.

 

 

* * *

   


Jongin spends the rest of the day inside, covered in blankets and reading. He makes a simple stir fry and rice for lunch, and has the leftovers and rice cakes for dinner. They’re not extravagant by any means, but it makes do to subside his hunger for a bit.

The book he reads today is quite a long one, over five hundred pages. The original was in French, but he brought both a used original and Korean translation with him, hoping to maybe practice his own French reading skills. He’s not the best at it, but he finds the romance languages beautiful to look at regardless.

A particular quote sticks out to him. At least, it stuck out to whoever owned the original French book before him, because it’s been underlined in pencil.

_J'ai perdu assez de temps à me justifier, à vouloir convaincre, à tenter d'expliquer qui je suis et ce que je fais et pourquoi je le fais._

I’ve lost enough time to justify myself, to want to convince, to try to explain who I am and what I do and why I do it.

_Maintenant il faut agir._

Now I must act.

_Et je me fous de ce qu'en pensent les autres._

And I do not care what other people think.

 

* * *

_[day 3] and they were roommates_

A honking outside rushes Jongin to run out his door quickly. The black van is parked outside, Jongdae saluting him inside in acknowledgement. He rushes to the side door, pulling it open to swiftly seat himself inside.

“You slept well last night?”

“Hm, it was okay. The countryside is more freezing than I thought.”

“Oh?” Jongdae knits his brows. “Is your heating not working?”

“I think it’s a little broken,” Jongin admits, “but it does work on and off.”

“I apologize about that. I hadn’t thought of the possibility…I’ll let Jun know so we can fix that for you. Though, I don’t know if they’ll be able to fix it within the next few days.”

“That’s fine, I could really just take out more blankets from storage. Those should still be in the house, right?”

“They should be. If not, you can be like the local monks at the temple here.  _They_  live three hundred sixty-five days a year here without any heating or a/c.”

“That is very impressive. Unfortunately for me, I’m an unenlightened city boy. I don’t think I could even survive a day like that.”

“That’s fair,” Jongdae says.

The drive to the Ginyeom is twenty minutes along a slightly sloped incline. They pass a river and an abandoned industrial plant covered in weeds and vegetation. Once they reach the base, a sign with a nicely engraved ‘Ginyeom Hill hike – 3.2 km’ greets them.

They take on the hike by foot, Jongin holding a fresh bouquet of peonies and roses to place at the gravesite. In the meantime, Jongin listens to Jongdae talk about the backstory of this hill, how it once was the victory site for some major battle in Korean history.

Before they know it, they arrive at the grave. It’s a simple mound of soil built up from the ground, a gravestone marking only the name of Jongin’s grandfather. In front of it already lies a batch of lilies tied together with a white ribbon.

 “I can only imagine one person who would go out of their way on this kind of cold day to come all the way here,” Jongdae sighs out.

Jongin’s curiosity is piqued at that. He never heard stories from his grandfather about any of his close friends. “Who?”

“Well obviously, Kyungsoo. You probably don’t know about this actually. He was basically raised by him after his own parents…well. Passed on.”

“Oh,” Jongdae was correct. Jongin  _didn’t_ know this part about his grandfather or Kyungsoo. He had only lived here and gotten to know the man for a short while, for one. Back when he was ten and his parents hadn’t thought it financially feasible to bring him into the city just yet. Kyungsoo must have moved in sometime after he left. But even though he and his parents regularly called his grandfather every other weekend, the topic of Jongin’s granddad taking in another child had never been brought up in conversation. “Do you know when he began living with my granddad?”

“No, even I don’t know those details,” Jongdae says. “If you want to know more, you gotta ask the guy himself.”

Jongin sighs. He places his flowers down, next to the previous bouquet. “That guy. He never tells me anything.”

“Are you referring to your grandfather or Kyungsoo?”

Jongin supposes it does apply to both, but he responds, “Well, just now I was talking about granddad. He was never one to talk about what new was going on in his own life, only vague news topics that appeared in the daily newspaper, even if it was just boring meaningless shit.”

Jongdae feigns astonishment, “You shouldn’t talk badly about the dead!” Jongin rolls his eyes at the obvious sarcasm. Jongdae continues, “Just kidding. I knew him in his last years. He was always urging Kyungsoo and I to get married soon and all. You know, countryside people – wanting everyone to tie the knot as soon as they reach twenty. If he were still alive today…I can only imagine him berating Kyungsoo to his face for still being single even at twenty-six.”

 “Twenty-six is still young, especially for the city,” Jongin intercedes. But the thought pervades him. So Kyungsoo is still an eligible bachelor, and just only a little older than him, too. “Wait, but are  _you_  not?” He follows.

“I’m – seeing someone, I suppose,” Jongdae responds simply.

That’s…such a roundabout way of saying yes. Jongin wants to confirm his suspicions. “Is it Jun?” Jongdae remains silent for a second, as if contemplating that answer for a bit. He sees a tinge of blush growing redder on the shorter man’s nose.

“You could say that.”

Jongin feels satisfied at his correct guess. “I knew it, by the looks of how you guys were all over each other” He grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll support you two.”

“Is it that obvious?” Jongdae asks worriedly. “We’re trying to keep it down low for now. Jun’s parents are really conservative.”

“I mean, I guess? I have a really strong eye for these things though. I wouldn’t guess anyone else has caught on though, by the way they keep wanting to introduce their daughters to you,” Jongin says. “But I’m sorry to hear that. That must be really hard on the both of you.”

“There’s nothing  _I_ can do, really. Thanks for being nice about it though, I’ve told some close friends before, and well, now you can say they aren’t.”

“I respect Jun, so I respect you and whatever you guys have. It’s as simple as that.”

Jongdae gets quiet, and Jongin gives him space. He hasn’t seen much of contemplative Jongdae. He now feels guilty somehow, for maybe crossing into a territory too personal for casual conversation between two people who have only really just met. Instead, he lets the sound of the wind blow through the trees fill the silence between them.

Jongdae drives him back home after they hike down. He thanks the man once again for all the help.

“Stay warm tonight,” the man warns, his voice now filled with more pep now. “There’s supposed to be a winter storm starting up at 7 pm. Weather reports saying there will be at least a couple inches tonight too.”

“Guess I’ll hibernate like a bear inside here tonight until the outside calms down.”

“Good idea. Well, then, I’ll be off. Again, if you ever need me, I’m just a text away.”

Jongin waves goodbye again, and Jongdae drives off.

He recalls that his grandfather stored extra sheets in the guest room closet. They probably needed an extra wash, so he goes up to the second floor to fetch them. He has laundry capsule packs for washing his clothes, but thankfully he brought enough to last him two weeks. He stuffs the extra blankets and sheets in the washing machine and pops two packs in, turning on the laundry cycle.

While waiting, he reads a couple more chapters out of his book. An hour passes, and the laundry machine beeps a melody to signify the ending of its cycle. He gets up, noting how dark it suddenly got outside. Winters bring early nights. It’s barely six in the evening. He switches the lights on.

He goes back to the laundry room, and begins transferring the sheets to the dryer machine. Once that’s done, Jongin returns to the living room and goes back to his couch to continue reading.

The whirrs of the drying machine play for a while into the early evening. The wind howls outside as well. Suddenly, without warning, the light of the living room switches off, and the whirring stops of the dryer stops. Something can’t be right, he thinks. Was this a power outage? He tries switching the light back off and on again. He also tries other lights in other rooms, to no avail. The thermostat is also despondent, and he can already feel the cold creeping back into the house. This only confirms his suspicions.

_Shoot_ , he thinks, this is bad. He should call Jongdae. He pulls out his phone, only to find out it’s also run out of battery.

_Haha_ …this has got to be some sort of bad joke. How cold was this place was going to get? Jongdae just mentioned a winter storm, after all.

Then the thought hits him. He should go to Kyungsoo’s. He’s only next door after all, and Kyungsoo seemed to like Jongin back, at least a little bit. Besides, Jongdae just confirmed that he and his grandfather had had a good relationship.

He wraps himself completely in a dark grey scarf and down jacket, praying that the man next door is home and willing to let him – as of now still some man he just barely knows – in for the cold night.

He presses the doorbell, and waits for half a minute. Did Kyungsoo not hear? He presses it again. No answer.  _Shit_. Was Kyungsoo out of town for some reason? He looks over to the other ends of the street. The next house down should belong to a single-family home. He decides against calling for help from a random family he isn’t familiar with, even if it is in the countryside. He heads back to his own house, silently resigning about the fact that he will have to live a night without any electricity or wireless connection to the outside world. But reaching into his pocket, he realizes he forgot the key to the house hanging on the hook in the bedroom, and his face suddenly drains of all color.

Okay, seriously, what to do  _now_? He laughs at himself in pity for a second; it turns out Sehun’s teasing of Jongin getting himself lost in the Korean countryside has come true. Shivering, he peruses his own options. One, walk all the way to town even though he’s barely dressed for the occasion, having not brought hardy snow boots to handle trekking through large swaths of snow. Two, somehow break into his own house and stay the night in a heater-less icebox. No wait, that’s a terrible idea. He looks back to the other house down the road with the family. That’s really his best bet, unless he wants to get eaten by actual bears tonight.

A rustling of leaves breaks his ponderings for a brief moment.  _Shit_ , he thinks _, the bears have finally found me._  Or, maybe it’s a squirrel. Yeah, it makes way more sense for the small noise to be a squirrel. There aren’t  _bears_  around these parts. The rustling happens again, and this time a small tuft of black hair pops out, followed by a man in a face mask.

Jongin reels backward, and almost screams in terror.

“Wait! Wait—it’s just me, Kyungsoo. It’s Kyungsoo!” The masked man says, pulling his mask down. A closer look confirms that it is indeed him. He has fluffy white earmuffs on, even.

“Oh my…god, I almost had a heart attack,” Jongin gasps, trying to catch his breath in the cold. “What where you even doing out here dressed like that?”

Kyungsoo helps him regain his posture, bringing his arms up to Jongin’s shoulders. “I was just adding more tarp to cover the crops out here,” he says. “They forecasted over thirty centimeters of snow tonight. What brings you here tonight, Jongin?”

Jongin points back to his house. “I just had a blackout. Was wondering if you were affected by it too. I lost my heating and everything.”

“No, I haven’t experienced a blackout here. But I’ve also been outside a bit. Let’s go check, yeah?”

He leads Jongin up the steps into his house, where he flicks a switch on. Immediately, light floods the interiors, and he’s again encapsulated by the warm aura of internal heating.

“I guess it’s just my house then,” Jongin says.

“Yeah, seems like it. Would you like to stay here tonight?” Kyungsoo offers.

“Can I?” he asks.

“Of course,” Kyungsoo says. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get you something to eat.” He looks pointedly at Jongin. “You wanna go back to your house to pick up some clothes you can change into?”

“Um, there’s a slight problem with that. I kinda locked myself out,” Jongin says sheepishly.

Kyungsoo thinks for a moment. “Well, it’s just for a night anyways, right? I can lend some of my clothes. But they might be small on you.”

Before he can protest, a towel and set of night clothes are thrusted into his arms.

“The shower’s down the hall here,” Kyungsoo says.

He lets the hot waters wash over him as he stands in the shower for twenty minutes. Kyungsoo was really too wonderful for this world. How could such a smart  _and_  nice guy remain single like that? He really wants to…snatch a bit of that for himself.

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo’s voice rings out in the bathroom. The door’s still closed. Kyungsoo must be calling him from the hallway. “I made some dinner. Take your time though, no rush.”

After toweling off the wetness, Jongin slips on Kyungsoo’s shirt and boxers. The feeling of the fabric against his skin is a bit lascivious, since the cotton clings to his body much more tightly because of his larger size.

He enters the kitchen, where Kyungsoo is now dressed in a blue apron and taste testing everything.

“It’s a bit simple, but let me know if you like it,” Kyungsoo says. Jongin faces the array of dishes set before him. Ginseng chicken, marinated crab, stuffed Napa cabbages, fried octopuses, and a huge shared bowl of Japchae, not to mention the two hot steaming bowls of white rice set right across from each other on the table.

“This is…simple?” Jongin gawks.

“Oh no, is it too much,” Kyungsoo says worriedly. “I only made the chicken and crab earlier today, the rest are heated leftovers too.” He sighs.

“Absolutely not. I will have to try everything then,” Jongin says, seating himself at the chair opposite Kyungsoo’s.

Kyungsoo smiles at that, and they eat the dinner.

Everything is, predictably, delicious.

 

* * *

   


“Kyungsoo, is there a couch somewhere? I can sleep there tonight,” Jongin calls out from behind the kitchen sink, where he’s busy doing the dishes.

Kyungsoo comes back into view, holding a huge fold out futon in his arms. “No, we only have futons in this house. I normally sleep in that adjacent room and keep the heating localized to that one room,” he explains. “You can stay there with me tonight.”

Jongin simultaneously thinks that is a very bad idea and the greatest idea ever. Kyungsoo seems mostly oblivious to his intentions, probably because of his countryside upbringing. But he doesn’t know how to explain to this man that letting a guy who has a one-sided crush on you sleep in the same room as you is not what normal, straight men should do.

“Okay, are you sure about that?” He says.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kyungsoo says.

Kyungsoo seems stubborn about this, so Jongin lets it go. Whatever…it’s just for a night. Only a couple of hours. He can withstand that.

“Help me lay out the futons,” the other man tells him, “I’m going to shower.” Jongin can’t believe the words coming out of this guy’s mouth. Does he even know what he sounds like?

He rolls out the bedding and sheets nevertheless, taking care to make everything all fluffed up. After pacing the house for a bit in a fit of boredom, he finds himself some spare phone chargers to refill the battery of his iPhone. Cursed things. They advertised themselves as having long battery wear, and yet his can barely hold a charge in cold weather.

He returns to the room to find Kyungsoo sitting down on one of the prepared futons, rubbing his hair dry on a white towel.

“You ready to sleep?”

“Yeah, I took one of your phone chargers, if you don’t mind. My phone’s completely dead.” He says, sitting down onto the remaining futon.

“That’s fine. Let me turn off the lights then.” He gets up to pull down on the overhead hanging light cord. The room immediately turns dark.

“Good night,” he says.

“’Night,” Kyungsoo says back.

Jongin lies under the covers uncomfortably, not having slept on a hard matted floor in a while. It’s a little hard on his back, he admits. After lying there for a few minutes, he gets up to figure out his way back to the shelf where he saw all the extra pillows and sheets earlier. Thinking they can cushion the ground a little better, he uses the walls to guide his way. He reaches out and feels one eventually, much to his relief. He then tiptoes back to his own futon carefully, in order to not wake up Kyungsoo.

He missteps, however.

“Ouch!” Kyungsoo yelps out. Jongin trips over Kyungsoo’s outstretched foot, and topples face forward onto the smaller man.

“Sor-Sorry!” Jongin says, feeling around for Kyungsoo to make sure he’s alright.

“Jongin…your hand,” Kyungsoo says. Jongin whips his hand back, after realizing it was  _just_  resting on the curve of Kyungsoo’s ass.

“I did  _not_  mean to do that,” Jongin says. He’s still disoriented. It’s only after a moment that he realizes he’s still on top of Kyungsoo.

“Is  _this_  on purpose, then?” Kyungsoo murmurs, referring to the prolonged position. Under the dim light of the moon peeking out from the window, he can make out the outlines of Kyungsoo’s face.

Jongin realizes at that moment. Did Kyungsoo just…hint at something?

He responds, “It can be, if you want it to.”

A brief silence permeates the gap between them.

“Then I want it,” Kyungsoo half whispers.

So Jongin traces the outline of the face of the man before him, cupping his chin with his right hand. He lets his fingers roam upward, until they reach the softness of lips. He leans in, and kisses those lips ever so slowly. Kyungsoo beckons him, reaching his arms around Jongin’s neck to pull him in closer. Breaths intermingling, Jongin loses the ability to even think. He lets the natural force between them guide the glide of skin against skin. After a while, Kyungsoo releases himself from Jongin’s grasp, gasping.

“I—think that’s enough for one night, don’t you think?”

Jongin pulls himself off Kyungsoo, and rolls over to his side of the room onto his own futon.

“Yeah…let’s sleep,” he agrees. Before he knows it, the sound of Kyungsoo’s soft snores fill the night air.

 

* * *

   


_[day 4] come springtime, they’ll bloom_

The rest of the night passes uneventfully – thanks to the unfluctuating temperature in this household, Jongin finally gets a good night’s sleep. But small things make Jongin realize that last night was not a dream. First off, his hands are noticeably warmer, a little overheated, even. The curtains in here are noticeably thinner than those at his own house, Jongin notes, as the shining morning rays rouse him from his sleep. He still hears little snores given off by the other man still sleeping in the same room.

Jongin gets up, only to notice that somehow through the night, the futons and sheets had shifted underneath him and Kyungsoo so that the two of them were now lying mere inches apart from each other. He scoots back guiltily, as if caught in the midst of committing some nefarious crime. He didn’t… _do anything_ to the other man at all last night, did he? He  _was_  known to hug things unconsciously when he slept, much to the amusement of Sehun and Chanyeol. ]

Once again, he still feels awkward around the prospect of being in such close contact with Kyungsoo, even if they did kiss last night. He admits Kyungsoo is very attractive. There are plenty of even more conventionally attractive idols and wannabe idols all around Seoul, but Kyungsoo has a unique sort of unconventional beauty. He has little wrinkles that form around his eyes and cheeks when he smiles. His brows are unruly and unkept, but it gives him an unorthodox charm, especially when paired with those big, curious eyes of his.

Kyungsoo slowly opens his eyes while Jongin’s gaze never leaves him. Time to ramp up the allure.

“Morning, beautiful,” Jongin grins from ear to ear at him.

Kyungsoo makes a face, then rubs at his eyes.

“Is this normal idol charm, or are you just flirting with me?” he accuses.

“Yes.”

Kyungsoo breaks into a small laugh. 

“You’re getting bolder,” he notes.

“And you’re only getting cuter,” Jongin smiles back. He’s never felt this sweet rush from just talking to someone so intensely before, and he can’t help but giggle after he says those words.

“So,” Kyungsoo says more seriously. “What are we planning on doing today?”

“Well, before what happened last night, I was planning on calling Jongdae and asking him to fix the heating, but now I’m feeling it might just be a better idea to stay here,” Jongin responds.

Kyungsoo sighs. “It’d be a good idea, actually, to get that fixed as soon as possible. And maybe get those keys of yours. You don’t want the fridge to start stinking up.”

“Ah, you’re right.” So Jongin figures to text Jongdae about the hang ups regarding his house ( ** _got locked out of my house last night when it lost electricity – can I have someone check it out?_** ). Before he can even get up, he receives a phone a call from Jongdae.

“Jongin? Jongin! Are you alright?” Jongdae’s sounds frantic. “You didn’t freeze last night, did you?”

“Calm down, Jongdae,” Jongin responds into the microphone of his phone. “I just stayed with Kyungsoo last night. He was very courteous about it.”

“Oh my god, I was so worried for a second, have you seen the snow outside?” No, he hadn’t. He looks out the window while still holding up his phone to his ear. It’s stacked way past thirty centimeters; he can’t even gander at how much has piled up from inside. “No one can probably get to work today to fix the electricity today. We’ll have to wait until everything mostly melts away tomorrow.”

Jongdae suggests staying with Kyungsoo another night. He’ll bring Jongin a spare set of keys tomorrow. Jongin is happy to agree with him on that, and with that, he hangs up.

Kyungsoo’s done folding up the futons by now, and they’re all carefully placed back inside the bedding closets behind them.

“So what did he say?”

“They can’t bring in the repair guys until tomorrow. Do you mind if I stay another night?”

“Not at all,” the other says. He grins. “You can help me make some soba and check up on my plants too.”

“Ooh, soba noodles? You  _know_  how to make those?”

“I’m still perfecting the technique,” Kyungsoo says, “but I think I’ve got most of the hang of it.”

Jongin explains his very not-adept hand at the kitchen, and Kyungsoo chuckles at it. So he mostly watches as Kyungsoo folds away at the soba dough and buckwheat flour. He rolls and stretches it over and over, making it completely even. He even lets Jongin try at it for a bit, but every time Jongin rolls the pin across the rolling surface, his dough ends up looking more like an misshapen turtle of sorts. He eventually returns the task to the sole domain of Kyungsoo. After an eternity, he watches as Kyungsoo cuts the dough into the characteristic thin shape of the soba noodle.

“You can boil some water for the noodles,” Kyungsoo says now, and Jongin gladly obliges. After the water starts bubbling up noisily, Kyungsoo dips in a portion of the freshly chopped soba. After five minutes, it’s done. He serves up the noodle with some dipping sauce for the both of them.

Jongin takes the first bite. “Wow, this is more amazing than any store-bought noodle I’ve purchased. Even better than some places I’ve been to in Japan.”

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” Kyungsoo sighs out. “But there’s just never enough time or the opportunity.”

“It’s totally worth it. The food there is just so good. I’ve never had better sashimi in my life,” Jongin says. “I could take you there.”

Kyungsoo watches him as he munches on the soba. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy, Jongin.”

“Well, it’s just something to consider…”

They finish up their noodles and clean up after that. Kyungsoo gets changed into a pair of overalls and a big jacket dedicated to yard work. He hands Jongin a bigger spare jacket to put on, as well as some old waterproof shoes.

Everything in Kyungsoo’s backyard is carefully laid out, labelled, and protected from the elements under multiple layers of tarp. He observes the other crouching down to inspect the plants, taking the soil pH levels, and spritzing them with tepid water in a spray bottle. There’s one section outside, though, that isn’t labelled, and instead looks to be quite empty.

“What are those supposed to be?”

“Those are tulip bulbs I had planted in the fall. They need to go through a cold phase in order to flower later. Come springtime, they’ll bloom.”

“I’ve always wondered why some plants need to be planted during certain seasons.”

“Well, nowadays we can artificially engineer conditions to grow out of season fruits, vegetables, flowers, any time of the year. But you’re right, humans have historically learned to plant plants like tulips in the fall, because they just won’t grow without that winter.”

“Do you know why?”

“Some biology thing like, a passageway is activated the tulip development, or something like that” Kyungsoo mumbles.

“Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“I guess like humans, flowers may need a period of hardship before they can truly blossom…” Kyungsoo muses. “Now, is  _that_  a good enough simile a literature teacher would approve of?” he grins.

“You’re  _so cheesy_ ,” Jongin laughs, “but it’s good enough for me.”

 

* * *

   


“Hey Kyungsoo.” They’re now back inside, all changed into new clothes, and watching the rerun of  _Dae Jang Geum_  on the TV. The sun is setting bit by bit outside.

“What is it?”

“There’s this place I’ve wanted to go to since the first day I returned here. You know an old temple around here? With a red exterior?”

“Yeah, I do. You mean the temple of Juljae-sa? I’m pretty familiar with it. You want to visit tomorrow?”

“I’d sure like to. I’m just starting to remember that I spent a lot of time there as a kid.”

“Then we’ll make it a plan.”

 

* * *

   


_[day 5] nineteen ninety-four_

The next day, much of the fallen snow has already begun melting. After making brunch together, they shovel out a pathway from the door to the road outside for the two of them, and start up the engine of Kyungsoo’s mini truck that he uses to transport his fruits and vegetables to the market.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow,” Jongin says, looking at Kyungsoo as the other focuses on the road ahead. “It’s been really fun, you know. I’m really glad I got to meet you.”

Kyungsoo hums in agreement, and Jongin turns to admire the little droplets of water melting and dripping off of the branches of trees outside. They splatter on top of the windshield from time to time, make soft pitter patter noises as each make contact with the hard surface.

The temple soon appears at the edge of the horizon. It beckons them to come closer as they drive forward. Kyungsoo parks the truck in the largely vacant parking lot, and they both exit.

“Amazing,” Jongin can’t help but say. The temple is actually a complex of many buildings with one large entrance. He vaguely recalls the arrangement of building. Just like how any adult would look back in fond remembrance of their fifth-grade school class, he thinks that everything now is just a little too small because of his growth in size. “Let’s go in.”

He lets Kyungsoo lead the way, since he appears to know his way around fairly well. Inside, monks are milling about, some even leading meditation out in the open. Some un-ordained monks – children really – are shoveling up the last remnants of snow and are sweeping the courtyard grounds. Others are tourists just like Jongin, having come to admire the colorful architecture of this particular temple.

“Oh, oh!” Jongin suddenly remembers, facing Kyungsoo. “We have to go see if this  _one_  special rock is still here.”

“A rock?” Kyungsoo questions. What a strange thing to be fixated on, he must be thinking.

“Yeah, follow me,” He grabs Kyungsoo by the hand, and leads him to a hibernating cherry tree in the middle of the courtyard, lacking of all color on all its branches. At its base are a series of large boulders allowing people to sit and rest.

Jongin paces around each the rocks, obviously looking for something. “Ah, here it is,” he says.

He’s now crouching down, pointing to a little hidden crevice in one of the boulders. People have graffitied their own initials all over it, marking their presence in the little history of this temple.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking at,” he remarks.

“Here,” Jongin urges, pointing to a more specific place. And there it is, his own signature – ‘ _KJI was here. April 2, 1994’_.

“I can’t believe it’s been sitting there for all those years. The same rock.” he says simply.

“I’m really surprised as well. I thought rocks eventually weathered over time!”

“I mean, they should…I guess this one’s just special then." Kyungsoo continues, "So you came here a lot as a kid?"

“Yeah," Jongin says. "For a pretty silly reason at that, too."

"And that was?"

He grins out, "Guess."

"I can imagine your grandfather dragging you here to instill in you all those good Buddhist values. Or maybe you just came here to prank all the old bald monks?"  


"Second one's closer. Come on, I know you grew up with granddad now, you know he's not Buddhist at all."

"Hmm, just tell me then."

"You see that little overhanging floor part of the temple over there?" He asks, pointing to small section of outside wood flooring used for meditation practices. "There was this one kid who was like, in training or something, and was always deep in thought meditating there. But I noticed, this kid meditated with his eyes completely shut. So one day I decided to pull a little prank where I would put a piece of bread or some other food right in front of him while he was so focused on concentrating he couldn't see what was in front of him. Every single time he opened his eyes a new piece of food would just be sitting there, right in front of him." He faces his head up towards the sky. "Though eventually the monks forbade me from coming here because I kept causing a racket with my friends."

"It was you, then." Kyungsoo stops dead in his tracks. 

“What?”

 Kyungsoo now faces Jongin. “I used to work here when I was in middle school.” He edges his words out slowly, as if in disbelief. “And I used to be assigned to practice my recitations there, that exact place. And,” he adds pointedly, "I just now remembered an annoying  _somebody_ pranking me with  _distractions_  not unlike those you just mentioned...the kid with the green thunder bike helmet. Who would always get chased out by the elders."

“Wait,” Jongin processes this all quickly, "How'd you know about my helmet?"

"Oh dear god, it was obnoxious. Don't you know green stands out 'cuz it's complementary to red," Kyungsoo responds, motioning to their surroundings.

"You're really not shitting me are you?" He laughs, "We really do just have incredible luck, then, huh? To meet the same person as children and then as adults?” He pulls Kyungsoo into a tight hug, their breaths appearing in the cold air in unison. "Can't believe even the Buddha is rooting for us."

"That's _literally_ not how Buddhism works," Kyungsoo retorts, “You know what, that kid definitely wasn't me. No way would I fall victim to liking my _horrendous_  childhood bully.”

“I think I’ll just believe the version of the story where you were probably secretly crushing on me back, actually,” Jongin says. 

The other man rolls his eyes at first, but in the moment after Jongin swears he sees the edges of Kyungsoo's lips curve upward into a smile.

  


* * *

   


That night, Jongin invites Kyungsoo out to dinner. He doesn’t really care for where, he just wants to prolong his company with the other as possible. They end up getting fried chicken skewers and cheap beers at a hole-in-the-wall place they’ve both never been to before.

When they return home, they know they’re both barely tipsy. Kyungsoo showers first, and Jongin follows. Even though Jongin steps out of the shower with still mostly sopping wet hair after, that doesn’t stop Kyungsoo from tackling him on the futons he’s set out. They roll around on the floor, making a mess, kissing all the while.

At some point his clothes are removed, and he’s pushing Kyungsoo deeply against the wall as the other leaves marks on his neck. Where their lips meet, sighs exit. The warmth of their bodies together feels so good in the moment, his fingers interlocked with Kyungsoo’s. Jongin can’t help but feel blissed out as he finally releases, and Kyungsoo lets out a whimper that no one but him can hear.

 

* * *

   


_[day 6] duty calls_

Jongin wakes up the next day a little sore and overworked, but nevertheless happy. That is, until the realization that he has to leave today hits him like a truck. He turns over to the other side, only to find that Kyungsoo’s futon is empty. Thinking he overslept, he quickly checks the time on his phone. It reads 8 a.m., not nearly as late as he feared. He picks himself up, looking at the mess he and Kyungsoo made last night. He should probably help with the laundry.

“Kyungsoo!” He shouts out towards the hall. “Where’s your laundry machine?”

The other appears at the doorway, spatula in hand. “Pick those up, I’ll lead the way.”

He’s led to a small laundry room adjacent to the bathroom. “Just a little bit of detergent,” he says.

After that’s taken care of, he washes up his face and heads to the kitchen, where he presumes Kyungsoo is.

As expected, he’s there, frying up some eggs and bacon in a pan. He approaches the other, wrapping his arms around the small of Kyungsoo’s waist as he cooks.

“Jongin…” Kyungsoo starts.

“Mm?”

“After this meal, I don’t think we should continue this.”

He stops right then and there. Did he hear that correctly?

“What are you saying?” He asks, in case his ears were fooling him.

“What you said yesterday was right. This has been really fun. But you have to return to the real world soon, with all your…expectations. Obligations. That can’t continue with me in the way of all that.”

“You mean, you’re calling it off, just as we’re just getting started?” He asks again, in disbelief.

“I’m not—‘calling it off’, do you take me for that kind of person? I’m thinking of your future here. And I think it’s best if no one knew about this. Even if it was great in the moment. You have your fans. And a family. Don’t let some guy you met as a kid and later started crushing on get in the way of all of that.”

“Kyungsoo, I don’t understand,” he says. He’s really telling the truth. “You’re saying this  _today_ , right after we had  _that_  last night? Are you telling me you’re just disappointed, and hiding underneath this wall of fake concern about me now?” He feels himself and his words getting heated, shifting the blame to Kyungsoo. He doesn’t mean to say this. But it all comes pouring out anyway.

“No!” Kyungsoo says, himself getting a little louder than he wants to. “You are I – we’re so different. I belong here. I’m harvest vegetables for a living, Jongin. It’s quiet. It gets lonely a lot, but I still love this kind of work. I have history here, and I can’t just leave it behind after spending a week with someone – even if that someone is really amazing,” he quickly adds on, not meaning to offend. “You’re vibrant, you belong to the world, but I can’t stop helping myself from just wanting to take you for myself. I can’t take that away from everyone for my own selfish reasons. Which is why, Jongin, this has to…stop.”

“Kyungsoo, you know you’re just pushing me away as a coping mechanism. Because I know some people left you. And I won’t,” Jongin says.

“I believe you,” Kyungsoo says. His eyes are creasing a bit, like he’s trying to hold back from tearing up. “But I told you before. You can’t be both mine and everyone else’s. I mean, look at Junmyeon and Dae for lords’ sake. They can’t even tell their parents. Imagine hiding that secret from  _everyone_  you know.”

“You have so little trust in me, Kyungsoo.” Jongin utters, his heart feeling like it’s going to crash and fall to pieces upon hearing that. “You know what, this was all a mistake. I don’t even want to eat anymore. I’ll just be leaving now.”

He grabs his own jacket and shoes, kicking off the socks that Kyungsoo had lent him for the day. He ignores the calls from Kyungsoo inside, and exits from the front door, not bothering to even soften the slam the door makes when it closes in on itself.  

He stomps over to his house, and sits down at the porch. He texts Jongdae –  ** _need my keys now. getting ready to leave._**

Jongin spends an agonizing half hour waiting in the cold. He sees Kyungsoo’s house door open a little bit at some point during that half hour, before it promptly shuts in on itself. He snorts. Now he can’t even give him a proper goodbye. The memories they made in the past few days suddenly feel sour, and Jongin feels queasy inside.

When Jongdae pulls in front with the black van, Jongin immediately perks up. The guide is shouting something, but Jongin can’t be bothered to listen intently.

“ _Jongin!_  What are you doing here, waiting out in the cold like this—” Junmyeon is here now. He pulls Jongin’s jacket’s sides together so he can zip it up together. “Whose clothes are these anyways? They look so ill-fitting.”

Jongin doesn’t bother to respond anything besides a simple  _mmhmm_ , and Jongdae quickly pulls out a set of keys to open up the front door. The house is exactly as he left it. The sheets are still in the dryer, his clothes are in their suitcases, and his food still in the fridge.

“Just throw away the food,” he says to his manager, as he himself peels away the clothes he no longer wants to wear. He tosses them onto the couch and changes into his own clothes. “Those are Kyungsoo’s. Could you return them sometime for me please?”

“He’s right next door, Jongin. Why can’t you just do it yourself.” Junmyeon says.

“I’m not in the mood for seeing that guy right now.”

Junmyeon eyes him judgmentally. “Fine, but are you planning on leaving now? We technically still have an hour until your scheduled departure…”

“It’s fine. Let’s just go head on back.” He says.

* * *

   


The ride home feels much shorter than the ride there. It’s always like that, he thinks, but this time felt different. Returning back to work this quickly, right after the swell of emotions Kyungsoo gave him earlier, it’s enough to make his insides ache.

“You’re finally back!” He can hear Chanyeol gush out as he swivels him around to hug him face forward, “Happy birthday, look, come inside, we prepared something for you.”

Sehun is grinning from ear to ear from inside the dorm, holding in his hands a tiramisu cake topped with strawberries, “Hey, birthday boy, you ready to celebrate?”

“People really went all out for you this year. Subway ads, bus ads, hell, I think there was even a news item saying a nearby school rolled out a picture of you to display on their basketball court scoreboard,” Chanyeol says.

“Wow, that’s…phenomenal,” Jongin says, trying his best to squash any hint of sadness in his voice. It’s difficult. His voice is there, but he himself feels plastic and hollow. How does one continue to live normally immediately after being served rejection and heartbreak? He remembers he has a scheduled birthday party he wanted to share with fans later that day. Which means he has got to get used to this feeling.

The cheers later that day somewhat drown out his dejectedness. He’s all smiles in front of his fans, who have brought banners and flags and cameras to cheer him on and welcome him back.  _Did you have fun on vacation?_ They ask.  _Did you celebrate earlier with the other members?_  They prod further.  _Oh Jongin, we’ve missed you!_  The exclaim. Another cake is cut, another set of candles is blown out, and manager Junmyeon sits to the back of all the fanfare, eyeing Jongin.

After the event, Junmyeon brings Jongin his coat and bag.

“You did great, everyone loved seeing you again,” He refers to Jongin, who doesn’t bother responding to the praise. “Hey…you okay? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“No, it’s fine, Jun…I’m just tired. I’d like to go home now.”

“You sure? I heard from Jongdae that you and Kyungsoo were getting along great during your vacation, but suddenly I hear you two dropped all contact. Was there a falling out?”

“That, he—it’s fine, Jun. Really. I just want to take a hot bath and go to bed right now. Really, I’m just tired.”

He can tell Junmyeon doesn’t buy the excuse. But his manager decides to put up a façade of falling for that excuse, and lets Jongin ruminate in his own thoughts as he is drive home.

For the first time in his career, Jongin feels like he’s spending his birthday alone.

 

* * *

   


Time trickles by nevertheless, regardless of how Jongin feels. The early year comeback is deemed a success, with both popular audiences and music critics listening endlessly to the unique instrumentation and vocal mixing used the title song. February melts into March, which itself pours into April.

Over the course of those months, Jongin intersperses his online fan cafe uploads with photos he’s taken at his grandfather’s farm along with his own glamourized idol photoshoots. The difference in aesthetic is barely noticeable, since he’s keeping the theme of his social media pretty flowery and natural.

Jongdae proposed to Junmyeon sometime in between all of that. He notices the ring Jun keeps on his ring finger at all times now, and how much cheerier he is to the members. Apparently, however, he no longer keeps in contact with his parents. They didn’t appear to take in the news too well.  

One day, he plans on spending a weekend to see his parents in Suncheon. His sisters are coming too, they tell him, along with his newly born niece. He hasn’t seen any of them in ages.

His parents’ house is a stark contrast from his grandfathers’. Recently renovated, it’s all angles and crisp lines. He rings the doorbell upon arrival. Footsteps follow, along with a scrambling clatter, and finally a few muffled shouts from someone inside saying to hurry up and get the door.

The door bursts open. His sister, Jungah, lets go of the door handle to give him a giant bear hug.

“Jonginnie, oh I’ve missed you so much!”

“Oh my god Jungah,” Jongin coughs out, “Can you loosen your grip a little bit, you’re choking me.”

The older woman doesn’t in fact do that, instead pushing her face upwards in order to give her brother a kiss on the cheek, “No, you don’t deserve that. Tell your sister how much you missed her.”

“I—missed—you—!” His words come out bit by bit, as he feels the weight of other bodies come collapsing over Jungah and himself. He shakes them all off and readjusts his jacket. “Okay, you guys need to stop doing this every time I come home.”

Surrounding him are the rest of his family members – his mother, father, his oldest sister Jinah and her husband, and finally Jungah. They are all beaming at him.

“You’re the last to arrive,” Jinah cheekily scolds, “though we’ve come to expect that at this point.”

“You know I’m busy and have to avoid peak traffic hours,” Jongin deadpans back. They all begin heading inside the house now. He looks up to his mother and father, “So, is everything well mom, dad? I hope you’re keeping healthy.”

“Jongin, I just remembered, I have some things for you!” His mother exclaims excitedly, now rushing off back to the kitchen in her checkered apron.

“No,  _mom_ , you  _really_  don’t need to get me anything anymore, I’m perfectly able to afford everything I need now—“ Jongin raises his voice as he takes his shoes off to place in the shoe cabinet. His mother never seems to remember this, no matter how many times he’s said it by now.

“You should just accept whatever your mother says now, that’s actually the true sign of growing up,” his father tells him.

His mother immediately rushes back to them. Before he knows it, a small assortment of items is shoved into his arms: two new sets of socks, a sweater with a bear embroidered onto it, several other knickknacks he can only assume his mother got for him when she went on vacation to Jeju that one time last year, and finally – a letter.

He frowns. A letter for him addressed to his parent’s home address is highly unusual. Normally, fan letters and other things are sent off to a specified department with the company, where they are thoroughly vetted and investigated for suspicious contents. This letter, though, is folded in a pretty small envelope, only slightly larger than a postcard. Perhaps it  _is_  a postcard. But he flips it over, and his eyes widen at the name of the sender. It’s from Kyungsoo.

Everyone’s still watching, so he decides to just keep up appearances. “Thanks, mom, really. I’ll use these well.” He puts away the letter quickly into his bag, “so, tell me everything that’s new with everyone. I need to catch up with you all.”

The rest of the night is spent making mandu together with his entire family, meeting and playing with the newborn Rahee until she gets too tired and can’t stop crying, and drinking tea and playing cards with his father and Jinah’s husband while his mother and sisters took a late night stroll around the neighborhood.

Once he returns to his old room – the room he stayed in through the latter years of middle school and later high school, up until he debuted – he finally pulls out the letter he got from Kyungsoo. Suddenly fraught with anxiety, he thumbs the seal nervously. What would be written inside? Is this another rejection, no, why would Kyungsoo write him just to do that? Or was it perhaps…an offer for begin things, perhaps, anew?

He makes a decision. He quickly texts Chanyeol and Junmyeon to discuss something. He won’t let this chance slip away, not this time.

 

* * *

   


_[day 79] so it’s been a while_

The route is familiar to him now, he notices. The changing of the landscape as he drives from Seoul back to the countryside is no longer a unique thing to him. Familiar signs and landmarks remind him of a time when those same things were covered in a thin veil of whiteness and cold snow.

The drive doesn’t seem all that long anymore. Rather, he seemed to be in a trance while doing it, just mulling in his own thoughts, repeating over and over in his head what he would say to Do Kyungsoo when he meets him again.  _This is reckless_ , he remembers Junmyeon telling him,  _but I can’t say I hate it_.

He pulls up to Kyungsoo’s home. In the spring, the fine veneer of the surface of the house glows in the morning sunlight.

“Do Kyungsoo!” He shouts, with all of his might, hands cupped around his mouth. “Do Kyungsoo! It’s me, you still remember? I want you to come out right now!”

No one answers. He feels a little foolish for the briefest moment, before stepping forward to knock aggressively at the door.

He hears the sound of footsteps. A click, and the door is open.

“Wha-?” The familiar voice says.

Jongin takes the entire sight in. Kyungsoo, again, this time in a thin white T-shirt and cropped jean shorts. “Uh…hi,” he says, suddenly forgetting how he planned this conversation on going.

“Jongin…? Don’t you have a concert series to attend? Why are you here?”

“Who cares. I have something to tell you,” he responds.

“Jongin, didn’t you even read the letter I sent to you recently? I don’t have the time for this right now,” Kyungsoo says, yawning and turning around, about to close the door on him.

“No, you got to call off everything before I could get a final word in. I’m not gonna let this…thing of ours remain a one-way conversation,” he says defiantly, holding the door open with his right hand. “I…have something to confess.”

Kyungsoo turns back around, this time staring Jongin dead in the eye. He’s listening.

“I’m not giving up on you, Do Kyungsoo. I like you too much for that. These past few months without you have been so, incredibly lonely. Worse than the months before. And I think it’s because I realized what I missed.” He looks down at Kyungsoo’s lips, at their heart shape, how they curve so slightly upwards when he’s moved. “And you were that. But I didn’t try to even take in your feelings. I know it must be hard to take a chance at a celebrity, with a guy like…me… someone like that is hard to trust.”

Kyungsoo is now fidgeting with his fingers at the doorknob, ears turning a little red.

“But I’m taking a chance for you. I came out to my sisters. I told them about you. They like you already, from what I’m saying at least.” He continues, “And I could help you find a job in the city, my bandmate Chanyeol…his mom owns a restaurant. They’re looking for talented cooks. You’re perfect. She’ll take care of you, just like her own son.”

He now looks up back at Kyungsoo to lock eyes with him. “So please. Will you come back to me?”

Kyungsoo is speechless. He rubs at his eyes to make absolute sure he’s not in some crazy lucid dream.

“I…this is a lot to take in, Jongin.” Kyungsoo says. “Does this mean you didn’t read  _any_  of my letters?”

Jongin’s confidence falters, fearing that this is where the rejection comes. But wait, he realizes, did Kyungsoo mention  _letters_ , as in the plural?

He pulls out the letter delivered to his home address, apparently the most recent one by the date postmarked. He’s still left it unopened. He waves it to Kyungsoo. “This one?”

“Dear god, you are an idiot.” Kyungsoo says. “Open it.”

Jongin can’t really say anything to that, so he decides to open up the letter in front of the demanding man. Inside, there isn’t anything, except for – a receipt for concert tickets?

“These are the platinum level seats…to SKY’s next concert,” Jongin breathes out, the pieces all coming together.

“Jongdae and Junmyeon hooked me up with those” Kyungsoo leans against the door now. “I was planning on seeing  _you_  regardless, because  _someone_  wasn’t responding to any of my letters.”

“How many letters did you send out to me?” Jongin asks.

“Hmm…about seven,” he answers. “I realized fan mail wasn’t the way to go when it came to getting in contact with idols you personally know but don’t  _actually_ know, but I had no leads, can you blame me?” He sighs. “Then I confessed it all to Jongdae drunkenly one night, and he told me your home address which  _he_  got Junmyeon to fess up. That’s how I got the ticket. And sent you that last letter.”

“You were going to…come to me?”

“That was the plan, yes,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes now. “Until someone just decided to take everything in his own hands and ruin the surprise.”

Ugh. Junmyeon must be laughing at this situation right now. He can only imagine the manager pulling the strings to elicit maximum comedic effect. He admits, he feels a bit silly right now, with the truth all out.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Hmm?”

“I really, really, want to kiss you right now,” he says. “And apologize. For leaving without saying anything, that was really wrong of me.”

“Yeah, that was a pretty dick move. But I handled it pretty badly too. Don’t worry about it.”

He wraps his hand around Kyungsoo’s fingers, holding them out in front of him. He leans in, and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s start over with something simple like this,” he grins.

Kyungsoo smiles back. “You actually don’t know how happy I am right now. That you’re here, in front of me. If it weren’t so ridiculous, I’d probably actually be crying out of joy.”

“Haha, save those tears for when I ask you to move in with me,” Jongin says back.

“Okay, you are going  _way_ too fast now, slow down there cowboy,” Kyungsoo says. “I haven’t even said yes to your offer to working in the city.”

Jongin pouts. “You won’t come to the city with me?”

Kyungsoo laughs. “We’ll need more than three days to decide if I’m ready to handle a big change like that.” He looks to Jongin’s sobered expression, “but don’t worry, after your concert we’ll have  _lots_ of time to talk, and get to know each other better.”

The smile on Jongin’s face returns, hopeful at the promise of just spending more time with Kyungsoo in the future. This time, Kyungsoo is the one who pulls Jongin in, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Come inside, though. You must be so tired from all that meaningless driving. Let’s drink some tea.”

As he follows Kyungsoo outside, he peeps the flowers planted out on the sides of the house.

Spring has come, and the tulips have fully bloomed.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, mods Meokmul and Huchu, for being so, so patient with me with the writing of this, and allowing me to submit so late. I honestly wanted to scrap this after a certain bit of news came around. They pushed me forward regardless, and for that, they have my gratitude. 
> 
> I can't remember how many times I wrote and rewrote the ending for this. I'm still not satisfied, but this will have to make do for now. It was originally going to be much angstier and much longer, but my poor heart couldn't take it. :'( 
> 
> A couple of notes and bits of fluff:  
> 1\. The book Jongin is reading is Le Miroir de Cassandre by Bernard Werber. The quote supposedly comes from that book, but I’ve never read it, and I can’t translate French. I have also never lived in Korea. The setting of the story is inspired partially by my own hometown in China and my recent visits to Japan. I apologize for any of the inaccuracies  
> 2\. You may have noticed I changed the time period for this fic; they are in 2010. I just arbitrarily decided that. Imagine them carrying 3GS iPhones.  
> 3\. The titles of the days are supposed to be whimsical; yes, “and they were roommates” is a reference to that one Vine lol


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